Righteous Deeds
by GwennielOfNargothrond
Summary: Banished from Nargothrond: the story of Curufin and Celegorm as they arrive to Himring and face the matter of telling the truth behind Finrod's death to their elder brothers. Noldor-fic on the sons of Feanor.Now a Proofread version!
1. Chapter 1

_I'd want to credit nólemë for proof-reading! Thank you!_

_Banished from Nargothrond: the story of Curufinwë and Tyelkormo. Inspired by the Lay of Leithian, and the notes and comments for it by JRRT and CRRT.  
><em>_For the sake of conveniency for the readers, this fic is split into chapters. _

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><p><em><span>Many names are Quenyan, thus:<span>_

_Curufinwë Atarinkë "Curvo" = Curufin_

_Turkafinwë Tyelkormo "Turko / Tyelko" = Celegorm_

_Nelyafinwë Maitimo Russandol "Nelyo" = Maedhros_

_Kanafinwë Macalaurë "Káno" = Maglor_

_Morifinwë Carnistir "Moryo" = Caranthir_

_the Ambarussa = Amrod & Amras_

_Telperinquar = Celebrimbor_

_Findaráto Ingoldo = Finrod_

_Findekáno = Fingon_

_Artaresto = Orodreth_

_Ireth = Aredhel_

_Moringotto = Morgoth_

_Artanis= Galadriel_

_other notes:_

_Atar= father_

_epessë = additional given name; "nickname"_

**Righteous Deeds**

_Chapter I_

Who can tell which of us was at a worse mood, my brother or me. He had lost his hound and his best friend as well as the maiden he had loved. I had lost my son and a dwarf-made knife I had gotten from my brother. Now, I am not selfish, and I will not claim that leaving behind my only son is something to be compared to losing an earthly possession, no matter how hard it would be for me to find a knife as good.

But what was more, this time we had both been humiliated. A pride of a Noldo is high indeed, and if it is wounded then we are hurt also. We both had been driven forth from the very halls of our cousin, as if we were but mere beggars and thieves instead of the noble princes of the eldest line that we truly are. I had been defeated by a mortal. I had fought against him, and survived only because his Elven lover had interfered. My brother had been humiliated when his hound had turned against him and helped the very same mortal. Our only source of comfort was now that that mortal and his elven friend were now travelling to the realm of Moringotto, and the Vala would certainly take care of the revenge. Though, as I looked at my brother's face it was grey with sorrow. I guess he still cared too much of that maiden to wish for her death.

"It will start raining soon,"I commented looking up at the sky. He nodded, but said nothing as he pulled up his hood.

We were travelling North. Before the war, we had lived there, and now we intended to visit our brothers Maitimo and Macalaurë who still resided there on the hill of Himring. As good elder brothers they would be sure to invite us in when we arrived with our tails between our legs. I had yet no idea, though, how to explain to them why we had left Nargothrond or why Huan no longer accompanied Tyelkormo. The hardest part would still be explaining the arrival of the troops I strongly believed that Thingol of Doriath would send. Was it my brother's fault that the daughter of Thingol escaped with the mortal Beren? The only thing he had done was to offer Lúthien all honour he was capable of giving. I hadn't yet pointed out to my brother that attempting to marry the daughter of Thingol was his dumbest move ever so far. As if we hadn't been told that Thingol would rather sell away all his lands, than even look at a Noldo!

_**o0o0o**_

Himring welcomed us warmly. Our brothers were happy to see us, and they were tactful not to ask tidings before they had offered some food and wine. But eventually, when we all sat in one of the more luxurious rooms, Maitimo asked hesitantly how come Huan and Telperinquar hadn't followed us and I had to come up with an idea. Maitimo would eventually find out the truth: whether by the lies of Artaresto, the troops of Thingol, or in one of the letters that Findekáno sends him, he would at some point know it all. Deliberating my reply, I asked for a refill of my glass. Maitimo rested in his grand chair, Macalaurë sat peacefully beside us plucking his harp as he always had done in Valinor, Tyelkormo kept his expression unfathomable so that no one -not even Maitimo- could guess what really troubled him. The comfortable setting was like taken from Aman. I wouldn't have been surprised if father had entered the room. Unfortunately, the time I had won by asking for more wine was soon up, and I faced my elder brothers. I wished that my voice would persuade them into believing in my honesty. I wished they, too, would remember our days in Valinor and see me as the yet young little brother who meant no harm by his mischief.

"I and Telperinquar had a disagreement, and he wished to stay in Nargothrond instead," I said quietly. My brothers looked at me in condolence. Tyelkormo cleared his throat.

"And I had a disagreement with Huan. He follows me no longer," he said. At this our brothers seemed somewhat more perplexed: it was hard for them to imagine Turkafinwë Tyelkormo without his faithful companion. "Huan no longer wished to participate in fulfilling the Oath," Tyelkormo explained, and everybody else nodded in sympathy.

"Neither did Findaráto," I continued. "We had a debate on whether to steal the jewels from Moringotto, or not."

Macalaurë bit his lip. "You are not planning to ambush Thangorodrim. We are not ready. Our forces are not yet strong enough."

"Actually it was Findaráto who would have stolen the Silmarilli, not us," I replied.

Macalaurë was flabbergasted. "Findaráto?" he echoed. "Ingoldo?"

"I would have ruled the troops of Nargothrond for our sake," Tyelkormo cried out. "I had the people in my power, and they had taken me as their lord to guide them to victory. I would have had them fighting on our side! But Artaresto would not let me." His unfathomable expression faltered, and he shook his head so that his fair hair would cover his grief and shame stricken face.

"Did Findaráto want the Silmarilli?" Maitimo gasped. "Did you stop him? You know he can't get them. According to our Oath, none but us can get them."

"Oh, we tried to stop him," I said. "We knew death had to take him if we had met him with the Silmarilli. But his death did not come from our swords," I revealed but could not yet pity him too much. After all, I had warned him.

"He is dead?" Macalaurë breathed, startled so badly that he plucked his harp string so hard it broke. He cursed quietly, but rather for the tidings he heard than for the string. I saw a tear glimmer in his eye.

I nodded. Then I told them what had happened. Even amidst the sorrow, I enjoyed being in the limelight. I told them how Beren had showed up and claimed that our cousin owed him something. I told them of Findaráto who had set out on an impossible mission and Lúthien who had insisted on following them. I told them of Thingol seeking his daughter, but I did not mention what had caused his wrath; I would let my brother tell that, when he felt he wanted to. I told of the news of Findaráto's death, and I told how Nargothrond was in the need of a king who could keep the wolves of Sauron at bay. I outlined briefly how our policies had clashed with those of Artaresto, and explained all disagreements as being probably just caused by the grief of Findaráto's passing. All in all, I told them almost everything, but who could blame me for presenting it to them as though we had merely asked Lúthien to stay in Nargothrond where she would be safe, as if I and my son would still meet some day. But I did not exaggerate on how foolishness had come over Findaráto or how determined he had been in his departure.

_**o0o0o**_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews/faves that I have received so far! I am thrlled for the positive feedback and will repay it with a second chapter, and a third soon to come. _

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><p><em>Chapter II.<em>

When I finished my tale the sunlight had moved across the room. I and Tyelkormo sat waiting in silence as our brothers pondered our words. I wondered how they would react. If I knew them right, they would try to see this optimistically, but this time it would not work. Yet another of our cousins was dead, and it brought us all into a melancholy mood. As it would have brought even Carnistir, had he been here, and he wasn't even a fan of the House of Arafinwë. I decided to invite him and the Ambarussa here later so that they could hear the story from us before the rumours reached them. Or at least I would write them a confidential letter.

At last, Macalaurë twitched uncomfortably in his seat. "So you were banished because you were blamed for the death of Ingoldo?"

I turned to him, replying firmly: "We did not mean for him to go and get killed! It was us who spoke against his departure!"

"Is Artaresto lying, then?" Maitimo retorted. "And if so, then why?"

"He said it in a moment of rage," I replied, "he wasn't aware of the meaning of his words." I swallowed. Never had I had such troubles to find words so say. My brother looked sternly at me but I tried my best: "He entwined his life in our doom, and maybe we would have had to eliminate him, but it were the wolves of Sauron who put an end to his life. Not us. Not this time."

This time. That reminded us all of the horrifying fact, that the losses of the lives of many others were still our fault. Tyelkormo buried his head in his hands, Macalaurë lowered his gaze, and Maitimo's annoyance passed into grief and I could see that he recalled all the blood that had been shed on our account - because of our Oath which had brought us so far no good. The vow we had taken to protect justice.

"He is back in Valinor now," my eldest brother said bitterly. "I do not hold you to blame. None of us could have thought he'd venture to Angband freely." A shadow passed across his face; I knew he thought of his own stay in the halls of Morgoth, and how he himself had been rescued by one who set out for the impossible mission - so far the only one who had succeeded.

"We've got no place to go," Tyelkormo said finally breaking the silence, his voice hoarse. "May we stay here for now?" he asked and looked up. His question was left hanging heavy in the air, as Macalaurë occupied himself with his damaged harp-string to avoid eye contact, and Maitimo had silently risen from his seat and stood now by the windows, his face bathing in the sunlight.

"Russandol?" Tyelkormo asked pleadingly.

I had not seen him this broken since the day we received tidings of Ireth's death. He looked up at his brother. It was now that he reminded me of the elfling he had been back in Tirion. When he as a child had hurt himself and then sought for the compassion of his elder brothers. And maybe it was these thoughts that came to Maitimo's mind as well, when he heard his sibling's lonely voice using his epessë, pleading for understanding, for he sighed and turned back towards us.

"You may," he said.

_**o0o0o**_

"How did you look so grieving?" I asked Tyelkormo later that day. He looked at me and tilted is head in puzzlement.

"Why wouldn't I have?" he asked.

"Grieving at Findaráto's death," I explained. "Your mourning was so genuine, that our brothers believed it. Or were you grieving for the Sindarin maiden?"

Tyelkormo looked at me in surprise and disgust: "Curufinwë! Are you saying you don't mind our cousin's death at all?"

"I wouldn't have wished for it unless it had been necessary," I answered. "I could have stopped him from going easily enough. But do you know why I did not stop him?" I asked. He shook his head. "Because of you," I said. "Findaráto had a realm, he had power, he had a people willing to follow him. I gave all that to you instead."

Tyelkormo's eyes widened. I bit my lip. "Do not try to tell me you didn't see it. Do not deny that you would have wanted it. I told you of my plans. You set out ready to ambush him yourself."

"Only if he had returned with the Silmarilli, and had not been willing to part from them but would have given them to Thingol," he cried. "I would not have murdered him cowardly."

"Turkafinwë Fëanárion, you are a kinslayer! A kinslayer as bad as I am. Do not back away from the truth!" I was shouting now.

"That was a part of the Oath," Tyelkormo said in his defense. "Your plotting was not."

My anger grew at my brother's attempts to weasel out from sin. "You lusted for his realm, you lusted for Lúthien! You are no less guilty than I am!" I looked at him fiercely. "I lusted for the power we need to fulfil our Oath, regain the jewels, to make Atar proud. Does that make me a bad person?"

Tyelkormo couldn't find words to say. He looked at me in wrath, clenching his fists, trying to overthrow my arguments. My dear brother was a born orator, but I was always the one who won our debates. Mine was the victory this time as well, and I knew that it was but a matter of time before I could persuade him to look at all this from my point of view.

_**o0o0o**_

For some time no one spoke of the things that had come to pass. In Himring, we were treated with honour as if we always had lived there. Days passed by in an uneventful manner. None but I and Tyelkormo knew the truth behind what had happened in Nargothrond, and so far it seemed as if Tyelkormo wanted to avoid the thought. However, I knew that eventually everyone would find out the truth. No word had come from Nargothrond - apparently Artaresto wanted to have no dealings with anyone of our house - but Thingol had not yet sent any word either. I would have thought he would send raging messengers after us. Before we left for North, rumour had reached me that he would have sent troops to Nargothrond itself. Sometimes I wondered whether Artaresto had yet felt his wrath. Probably not, since they were apparently close enough kin to be on friendly terms. And also, who could be wrathful at Artaresto, that pitiful creature?

One day a visitor came to Himring. I had been sitting inside, deep in my thoughts, and had not seen his arrival until he was at the front gate of the castle. I peeked through the window and saw two of Maitimo's guards exchanging words with the messenger. The envoy was clearly from Doriath; I could tell it by the colours of his garment and the fact that he looked ragged as if he had been in a fight with orcs. But if I was correct in my guess, the letter I now saw the messenger taking out from a small leather pouch was probably from Thingol. The Sindarin King had sent a note for my brothers. Thinking quickly, I decided to try to get the letter before Maitimo or Macalaurë did. But I arrived too late and when I met my eldest brother he already had the letter. It lay unopened in his hand. When he saw me, he smiled. He was in a good mood. How would he be after he had read the letter?

"Hello, Curvo," he said. "Care to open this letter for me?" he asked handing me the envelope. I nodded and tore tidily up the side of it. I glanced at the ugly scar, all that was left of Maitimo's right hand. Such small tasks were so difficult, yet it was a small price to pay for freedom.

In the envelope was a neatly folded letter. It was definitely from Thingol. But I would wait for the storm before I decided on my words in defence. I handed back the letter, and before he would go up to his study to read it, I backed away and let the shadows engulf me.

_**o0o0o**_


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter III_

Kanafinwë was angry. My calm brother Macalaurë, "Forging-gold", was gone and in his place was an angry Kanafinwë, "Strong-voice", more angry than ever. His grief had grown into a terrible wrath and his eyes shone; now that he was reproaching us he looked like my father more than ever. His beautiful voice spoke of freedom, of love, of justice, and of betrayal. Three of those, he said, we lacked, and the fourth we knew too much of. Tyelkormo would have rushed up from his seat many times, had I not tugged his sleeve and whispered for him to wait. Maitimo was wrathful and upset, but also very silent. He kept reading the letter over and over again, his forehead in deep wrinkles.

"You are my own brothers! Why did you do it?" Kánafinwë asked. I kept my temper and my calm smile I had the bad habit of wearing even at difficult times, but he went on: "Why did you not tell us before?" By now, exhaustion had taken over his anger and he was rather willing us to see what our deeds had caused. And we did see, partly at least. Or we would have seen had we not been so keen on keeping our pride and dignity. The second son of Fëanáro was the voice of gold, and the voice of reason. Had ever been, would ever be. He was grieved for what we had done. But he could not be impartial if he heard nothing else than what Thingol had put in his letter.

_...Your brothers, Lord Maedhros, had most cruelly imprisoned my daughter. She has escaped them, at which I marvel not, for who would marry such an Elf as your brother Lord Celegorm, who had the nerve to ask me in a letter for my daughter's hand in marriage, although he knows very well that I will not have anything to do with his kin..._

_...Even you I hold to blame. Your brothers found Lúthien, and yet they did not send her back. They would hold her in orcish fashion... Had you stayed your brothers I would still have my daughter, my only child, by my side..._

_...The Mortal whom my daughter loved is apparently dead. To give way for another suitor, perhaps?... But moreover, Finrod is dead also... At this I marvel, for he was your cousin, and although you are known kinslayers, I would not have dreamt of your brothers sending him off to die. Such selfish deeds are so low that the Dark Enemy Morgoth himself would be proud..._

_...They held her, but not well enough, and now she is lost. I ask you to help us in searching for her. That would not redress all the damage Lord Celegorm and Lord Curufin have put my kingdom and the Kingdom of Narog through, but had you any decency left in you, son of Noldor, you would help us in our woe... Should you find her, please send her back immediately, and do keep Lord Celegorm away from her or I have no choice but to declare open war..._

"What do you say in your defense?" Maitimo asked coldly. "I would have had Thingol, if not as an ally, then at least not as an enemy. It seems like your private business has ruined all chances." He looked sternly at us. He was wrathful, but deadly silent. I decided to let Tyelkormo have his say, before I would comment.

He stood up at once. "If Thingol thinks he can have our Silmarilli, then I think I am permitted to wish for his daughter as my wife," he blurted out. I closed my eyes at this; so far the worst speech of defense ever. Macalaurë looked suspiciously at us, and Maitimo opened his mouth as if he was going to say something. But then Tyelkormo's style changed. "A treasure for him, and I would get no less." I listened again.

He spoke not of war in the north, of the Oath, or of troops he would have guided to regain the Silmarilli. That our brothers had heard before. Now he spoke what had not been mentioned earlier. He spoke of Lúthien. Such a passion was in his voice as he spoke of her: her beauty and her kindness were told in vivid images of words, and his desire to protect her from evil and from death was filled with emotion. How he would have loved her forever. How he, if she had let him love her, would have guarded her well and kissed away her grief; not let her take the path that would only lead to death. Tyelkormo the master orator, despite his harsh heart, had a voice no less golden than the one of Macalaurë.

The room fell silent. We gazed into the distance, our hearts contemplating this unhappy love. Tyelkormo sat down and fell silent once again. His fell words at Nargothrond were like blown away; no one doubted that he had loved the maiden for her real being, and not just for her kinship with Thingol. I let his words hang in the air before having my say in this matter. I could not believe that even this marvellous confession of love from our hot-tempered brother would quite convince everyone, although I did admire his skills as a spellbinding talker. I wondered whether he had spoken these words to Lúthien as well.

After a brief silence, Maitimo asked my opinion. I replied humbly that Tyelkormo would have been a good leader to the people of Nargothrond. I gave them my honest opinion that in these times of war Nargothrond needed a good and strong king. Ingoldo fitted that description, but Artaresto would do no well. (I did not say that in my opinion he was rather a slow dullard, but I mentioned as an example the fall of Minas Tirith, from where he had had to be rescued by us.) I believed that Tyelkormo would have fought off the wolves of Sauron with his bare hands, had the need arisen, but I did not say that out loud when I remembered how Findaráto had died.

"Could you not have ruled Nargothrond together, you and Artaresto," Macalaurë asked quietly. "Ingoldo left the kingship to Artaresto, but you could have been his counsellors."

"He did not want that," I said sadly. "His policies clashed with ours." I explained what had happened and how we had reasoned our deeds. I smiled to myself as my brothers gravely hung onto my every word. I sought not to be excused but to be understood. Now came the full motives for why Huan had forsaken us and why Telperinquar was not with me. I did not try to capture an emotion of the likeness of what my brother had shown us; I rather spoke about practicalities. But I did not leave out how happy Tyelkormo had been with Lúthien and how he would have been a good father some day.

I think it was the comment about fatherhood that got into the hearts of our elder brothers. Maitimo and Macalaurë had no children, although Macalaurë had had a wife, but I knew from their expressions that they were thinking not only of the cruelty that had bereft me of my son, but also of our own father. He had been a good parent, and we stood up for him no matter what had happened. He had raised us all with kindness, and for him and our mother we had become what we were.

Macalaurë sat upright. He looked at us. This one time I did not understand the look in his eyes. But after a moment he asked us:

"Is not King Thingol a father, also? Probably by his own standards no less good than any Noldo." He turned to my questioning countenance. "He is a proud Sinda and a Lord of Dark Elves, yes. But if we find his daughter we must return her to her home. He will not have our Silmarilli and we will not take from him what is his. We are not thieves; thieves are what we are hunting."

Maitimo nodded in agreement, but Tyelkormo bit his lip. Macalaurë looked at him with compassion. "I am sorry," he said quietly. "I would grant you the joy of true love, dear brother, but seek for it elsewhere." Tyelkormo nodded silently, but whether he really heeded wasn't for certain.

He stood up, not saying a word. At times he was the hasty riser that his name spoke of, other times he could be so silent and brooding.

"I hope you understand me," Macalaurë said to him before he went. "I would not want your life to have the sorrows it has."

Tyelkormo nodded again. "I understand," he said at last. "Love comes or comes not; thieves are what we hunt for." Then he left the room.

_**o0o0o**_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: This is it - the last chapter. Thank you, again, for your reviews and feedback! I am glad that you have had the patience to read this far. I hope not too many will be disappointed with the ending. _

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><p><em>Chapter IV<em>

He was, once again, reading it. The bloody letter from Thingol. "_Even you I hold to blame_," Maitimo quoted and looked up. I stared blankly back at him.

We were, just the two of us, in Maitimo's chambers. He had pulled me in for a private conversation. He wasn't that upset anymore, I noticed somewhat pleased, but he was very stern. "We have lost important allies - both Doriath and Nargothrond," he explained gravely. "I would have wanted all the free folk of Beleriand forming one single union against Moringotto. In war-time we cannot afford to stand alone."

"I am sorry."

"You should be punished."

"I have not suffered enough, then?" I asked bowing my head.

"I would not want to punish my brothers," Maitimo said, "but your deeds... I cannot see...what happened? I don't know you two anymore."

I said nothing. Maitimo's expression was sorrowful.

"Do you regret at all?" he asked.

"Well, I have lost my son, haven't I?" I answered sullenly.

"For our cousin's death, I mean. How far are you willing to go 'for the Oath'? Will you risk all your honour?"

"'For the Oath'? For the sake of my family, rather. For the love to my brothers. I am willing to go wherever I must."

Maitimo's mouth curled into a faint smile.

"Manipulative words, Curvo," he muttered. Nonetheless there was kindness in his voice. "I too, would fulfil the Oath. If for naught else, then to show that the Noldor are not yet in utter ruin."

"We are not ruined, Russandol."

"I know," he said. "One day the Valar will see that, and we shall laugh at those who defied us."

_**o0o0o**_

We were facing South, waiting for our other brothers, Carnistir and the Ambarussa, to arrive at Himring. The wind blew from behind us, so the cold air came from the North, from the now ashen lands of the Enemy.

"Remember when those realms were still green?" I asked Tyelkormo nodding towards North.

"Yes," he said shortly, then fell silent for a while.

We were standing on a hilltop some two miles from the Hill of Himring itself. It was just the two of us. That felt awfully empty, compared to the times before when at least Huan had always accompanied us. I almost missed him as well, although I knew he had betrayed us and would have maybe even killed us. The autumn breeze ruffled our hair and tore away leaves that still clung onto yellowing strands of grass. Tyelkormo was sitting on the grass tearing glumly away the petals of a barren daisy that still defied the winter. The petals were caught by the wind and I saw them land in a stream further away down in the valley, and flow away in the torrent of the waters.

"Why did you do it anyway?" my brother asked finally when the flower had nothing left but the brown middle. I was startled from my own thoughts and looked down at him. I asked him what he meant.

"You said you gave me the power and the realm of Nargothrond. Why me? Why not to someone else, such as yourself?"

I thought for a moment. Then I sat down beside him. "You are my brother. My favourite big-brother," I said simply. "After all you have done for me, I owed you a lot." I looked at him. He did not seem convinced. "It's the truth," I said. "You are a born leader."

"But it's always you who comes up with the plans," he protested. "Ever since our childhood it has been that way. Like, remember the time Curvo, when we cut off that strand of Artanis' hair and-"

"Tyelko, you're a born leader."

"- it was you who set it all up."

"And it's you who gets things done," I said. "As it was in that case, too," I said remembering the incident from the blissful days of youth in Valinor. Our cousin hadn't spoken to us for months. "But I hold firm to that you are a leader. Like Oromë, you drove off orcs in the war. Like Atar, you spoke for our sake in Nargothrond. Have you noticed how I always let you speak before myself? Have you noticed how I respect you? That is why I would have had you the King of Nargothrond."

Tyelkormo looked at me silently as he pondered my words. Then he looked down at his hands. "One day," he said, "One day, to make you proud, I shall yet hold the Silmarilli. Or die trying"

"I am proud of you already."

"And if Thingol or any heir of his gets it, then I shall take it from him." He closed his eyes. "Unless for Her," he added. "I should not hurt Her any more." I said nothing. He opened his eyes again and looked grimly and unblinking at the Sun climbing high up in the sky. Then he let his eyes fall and move across the horizon.

"Carnistir has come," he said and stood up.

He turned away to begin his way down the hill. For a second he looked around as if searching for the hound that had always went with him, but then remembered it all.

"They will follow me no more," he smiled bitterly. I said nothing. He kicked a stone down the slope. "One day, Atarinkë, I shall go to Doriath itself if I have to, and get them for you." Then he turned away and started walking down the hill. I looked after him.

One day we would all get them. Father would be proud, and we would laugh at those who defied us. Never shed those thousands of tears that we, according to Námo, yet would weep. I followed my brother who was already halfway down. I rushed after him and as I ran the wind tangled my hair again, as it had done upon the hill, as it had done in Himlad, as it had done in Valinor when I and my brothers had not yet known of the worries we now carried.

The clouds gathered in the North.

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><p><em>The End<em>


End file.
